Quintessential
by Majorkami
Summary: The Scientist was surprised when, unlike the others, 5 did not jump out of his hand upon first becoming aware. 5's early life, before the stitchpunks settled in the Sanctuary.
1. First Dawn

_**A/N: I started wondering about 5's early life after I saw the movie for the second time and realized that he, 3, and 4 were the last ones aside from 9 to join the group. Then just moments later, he loses his eye. Talk about a traumatizing intro! If I'm lucky and motivated this will continue into after the group arrives at the Sanctuary. The usual 'I own nothing' disclaimer applies. I borrowed the quote from the 9 experiment website.**_

* * *

_"5 was born today. I expected he would spring from my hand like the others, but he didn't. He looked back at me, trusting, and waited for me to gently place him among the equipment in my lab. Whereas they all initially showed such a primal need to explore the environment alone, 5 waited for me to show him the way. He trusts me. He is my purest creation to date."_

--- the Scientist's journal

* * *

His first moment of awareness was one of warmth. Something warm, curiously hard and soft at the same time enfolded him around his waist, leaving his feet dangling. It pulsed gently. He focused on its rhythm. Despite the empty air under his feet he had no fear of falling; the warm thing had always been there, and wouldn't let him fall.

"5, can you hear me?" an aged voice asked. He blinked in surprise, abruptly realizing that he possessed sight. An old man, immensely large to 5's optics, stared at him within a cluttered room. The warm thing supporting him was the man's hand. 5 stared back, waiting to see what would happen next. The man smiled.

"Welcome 5," he said, placing his small creation on his feet on the worn desk and releasing him. 5 took a tentative step towards his creator, but having never used his legs before balance eluded him and he started to fall. The Scientist's hand shot out to catch him. 5 grabbed the man's index finger with both hands and held on tightly until his legs stopped threatening to give way.

"Easy now," the Scientist said, "Just put one foot in front of the other. You'll get it."

At his creator's urging, 5 took a few steps, using the Scientist's finger for support. He felt steadier within seconds, and dropped one hand to his side.

"That's it. Try it without me now."

5 looked at the Scientist with a trace of fear, but took his other hand off the man's finger. The Scientist wouldn't let anything bad happen to him. He took one step on his own, then another. So now he could walk alone. The little stitchpunk smiled, and discovered that he also had a voice.

"Thank you."

* * *

5 awoke to the sound of explosions. He'd curled up just a few hours before with his back pressed against the Scientist's hand after the old man had fallen asleep at his desk. The faint light of the stitchpunk's first dawn filtered through the window as the only illumination.

_What's going on out there?_ he thought, clambering to his feet as the door to the lab burst open. A tall man raced in, slamming the door behind him. Not a man, 5 realized as the stranger crossed the room and shook the Scientist awake, a boy. His face was soft and round, and though he had height he was lanky, all arms and legs. He was dressed in well-worn fatigues that hung loosely on his frame.

"We have to go now," he said, sparing 5 a glance as the Scientist sat up and rubbed his face, "Both of you."

"I need to pack," the old man replied, beginning to frantically disassemble his equipment.

"There's no time! Come on!" the boy cried, taking the Scientist's arm. The old man shrugged him off.

"I can't leave my work, not now-" he said, then stopped, his eyes resting on 5.

The little stitchpunk let his creator lift him from the desk. This was only the second time he had been handled in his short existence but he enjoyed the warmth of the human's hands.

"I'm sorry 5, but it's time for you to go now," the Scientist told him.

"Go where?" he asked with wide optics. Had he done something wrong? Something to make the Scientist not want him anymore?

"Into the world."

The Scientist handed 5 to the boy.

"Drop him off wherever you feel is safest- as close to the last ones as you can. He's not the type that's meant to be alone."

The boy placed 5 into the breast pocket of his oversized army coat. The pocket was so deep that when 5's feet reached the bottom only his head and shoulders remained above.

"Wait! What did I do? Please!" 5 pleaded. The Scientist gave him a weary smile.

"Nothing, but it's not safe for you to be with me anymore. Look for the others of your kind, but don't let the machines see you."

"Don't worry, little buddy, you're safe with me," the boy told him, then nodded at the Scientist. Before 5 could ask anything else the boy took off into the chaos outside, carrying the hapless stitchpunk with him.

It was so loud! Artillery fire and explosions filled the air, louder and closer than 5 could ever remember them being. A huge world of streets and crumbled buildings unfolded before him as the boy ran. Flashes of fire, two-legged machines with guns slung under their bellies, humans running, shouting... how could he be expected to find anyone in this? The boy zigzagged through the streets so violently that 5 lost his footing and collapsed into the recesses of the canvas pocket. The warm darkness of the pocket was soothing after the sheer bigness he had just seen. The little stitchpunk pressed himself close to the boy's pounding chest, trying to focus on its frenetic rhythm instead of the dangerous noises outside. He was unable to suppress a yelp of terror as the pocket bucked almost horizontal. It righted itself as the boy's back impacted with something and stopped moving.

"Quiet," the boy's voice came from outside. His large, warm hand stroked the pocket in a bid to soothe its passenger. 5 clamped his mouth shut and touched the hand in return before he froze. The ground had just shook without an explosion. The boy was barely daring to breathe. The ground shook again. Then the boy barked a curse and started running. 5 heard a string of shots. Something whizzed through the boy's chest less than an inch above the stitchpunk's head as the human's body convulsed with multiple impacts. 5 screamed. The pocket went horizontal again and the boy collapsed face-down on the ground. Amazingly, 5 was not crushed as he'd expected to be; something had prevented the boy's chest from hitting the ground, propping it a couple of inches off the concrete. Something hot and sticky flowed over his cloth skin as the boy's body came to rest.

He was too frightened to even scream as the ground shook all around him from an impact that had to be within three feet. The ground shook again and again, but each vibration was slightly less until he could no longer feel them. It was then that he realized the boy's chest was completely still. The rhythm was gone.

"Hey," he called tentatively, "Are you okay?"

No response.

"Are you alive?" he tried again.

Silence. Panic sparking through his gears, 5 beat his hands against the boy's chest and shrieked, "Say something!"

Nothing happened. 5 at last unfolded himself and squeezed his way out of the pocket. The first thing he encountered was the boy's arm, curled protectively around the pocket. He found a very small gap at the boy's wrist he was able to escape through. As he stood he found himself next to the boy's face. The human's eyes were open, an expression of shock and pain marring his youthful features. 5 recoiled immediately, looking down to the ground. His legs were red, when formerly they had been brown. He realized abruptly that his own body was coated with the boy's blood.

_Oh my..._ 5 felt his whole body trembling. His gears started whirling so fast it hurt, and the world whirled drunkenly with them.

_He's dead! I'm next! I'm going to die!_

He landed on his knees, legs shaking too badly to hold him.

_I'm going to die! I'm going to die! He's dead!_

With no one to catch him this time he collapsed in a heap, burying his head in his hands and shuttering his optics tight to try and make the world stop spinning. The panic attack lasted no longer than a few minutes, but it seemed like an eternity before the world was still and his gears returned to a more normal pace.

5 clambered shakily to his feet. He had to get out of here, but still... He forced himself to look at the dead boy. It looked like the boy's last conscious act had been to save 5 from being crushed beneath him. It didn't seem right just to leave him in the street like garbage. He should do something for the human before he moved on.

Not far down the street, a torn flag lay rumpled on the pavement. 5 dragged it back to the human's body and used it to cover his face, hiding that horrible death stare.

"Thank you," he said to the body, then the stitchpunk wandered into the rubble alone. He needed somewhere to hide. And wash.


	2. Twins

The dried blood made 5 itchy. An older battle had already emptied this area of town of humans and the machines had followed them. He could still hear the gunshots echoing through the barren streets but for now it was farther away.

_Of course they couldn't have left someplace intact,_ he thought with what would have been annoyance if he hadn't have been so shell-shocked. Why were the machines hunting the humans anyway? It didn't look like they were gaining anything from it. 5 stopped for a moment to study another badly damaged building. There was plenty of space to hide at first glance, but it looked so dilapidated that it was liable to fall in a stiff breeze. The stitchpunk kept walking. He wasn't putting himself at risk of being crushed again.

5 had initially tried to find his way back to the lab after the boy's death. It didn't matter to him if it wasn't safe with the Scientist; it was the only place he knew and it had to be safer than out here. Unfortunately he'd spent so much of the ride in the bottom of the boy's pocket that he couldn't even guess at what direction it was in. It was past noon when he gave up on that and decided to take any shelter that worked.

The rubble piles were casting long shadows when he noticed a building with its roof and all four walls mostly intact. The small, single-story wooden house's windows were boarded, but the front door hung wide open.

_It's better than everything else I've seen._

He entered the house carefully. Much of the furniture was overturned, with sundry human items lying strewn on the floor. The clutter left a myriad of hiding places big enough for an eight-inch doll. One room at the back of the house reminded him in some ways of the lab. No machinery, but it had a desk and chair and many bookcases. Most of the books had been knocked down to the floor, except for a batch still remained on a wall-mounted shelf above the desk. As he explored from room to room, he even found a metal watering can lying half-tipped on its side, propped up on the saucer of a dead houseplant in the living room. There were a couple inches of water left in the can.

_That settles it,_ 5 decided, relieved to have a chance to wash, _I'll hide here for now._

5 crawled into the watering can and splashed himself with the water, taking care not to slide to the bottom of the can and be submersed. As he looked up from the water he saw a small brown and red doll sitting next to him. He jumped in surprise, almost falling into the water. The other did exactly the same thing.

_Is that..._

He looked at the figure and lifted a hand experimentally. The figure copied his movements precisely.

_...me?_

It was just his reflection in the shiny inner wall of the watering can. He stopped to study himself, fascinated. He's never seen his face before. The cloth of his face was burlap, like the rest of him. Over half of it was burgundy with the boy's blood. Unlike the humans he'd met he had no nose or ears. The most prominent feature were binocular-like optics of metal and glass. He blinked one eye and watched the nearly white shutters close and open.

_I'll have to watch the water around those, _he thought, and returned to washing. The blood stopped itching now that it was wet again, but although some of it was running out of his burlap he wasn't going back to his original colour.

_There's got to be something in this mess to do this better, _he thought, searching the house again. On the bathroom floor he found a bone-handled toothbrush, a wooden nail brush, and a half-used tube of toothpaste. They were perfect for the task ahead. 5 hung the nail brush off his shoulder and hefted the toothbrush like a rifle. The toothpaste gave him some problems until he hit on the idea of dragging it back by the folds of its consumed end. New tools in hand, 5 started walking back to his water source.

He was almost there when something ducked behind a heavy book on the floor so quickly he couldn't tell what it was.

"Hello?" he called out into what he'd thought was an abandoned room. He let go of the toothpaste and took the toothbrush clumsily in his hands like a quarterstaff. For a moment all he could hear was the quiet whir of his accelerating gears. Then came a quick patter of feet. Not machine feet, or human feet, but little feet, like his own.

"Hello? Please don't hurt me, whoever's out there."

Silence. But someone had to be in the room with him, someone his size. It occurred to him that the other being might be as scared as he was.

"Hello?" he repeated, then his voice became oddly steady as his need for companionship overrode his fear.

"I'm not here to hurt anyone. If you're a ..."

Hmm, there was a problem. What exactly was he?

"If you're a cloth person," he finally settled on, "Then I'm your friend. The Scientist told me to find you."

At first there was no response. 5 felt his anxiety building when a pair of optics, like his own, in a blue hood popped up from the clutter eight feet away. The optics disappeared, then popped up again a moment later with a second, identical set next to them. Then they disappeared from view and he heard the pattering of feet.

"Wait!" he called, dropping the toothbrush, "Don't go!"

But the steps were coming towards him. A second later two identical stitchpunks, shorter and slighter than him with pale cloth skin, bounded out of cover and stopped within inches of him. Their optics clicked and flashed as they circled him like eager puppies.

_Okay, calm down, they're just looking at you. Calm down._

"Um... I'm 5. Good to meet you. What are your names?"

They stopped clicking and each pointed to a symbol on their chests. 5 found he could read the symbols despite never being taught how, just like how he understood and spoke a language he'd never learned. He wondered momentarily what other inborn knowledge he would discover as he asked, "3 and 4?"

They both nodded, then 3 started flashing at him.

"Why are you doing that?" he asked. The pair looked at each other, optics flashing back and forth. Like a conversation.

"Is that how you speak?"

They looked back at him and nodded. This time 4 started flashing at him.

"I don't understand what you're saying."

The twins flashed at each other, then turned back to him. 4 studied the tube of toothpaste for a second while 3 picked up the toothbrush and handed it to 5.

"Thanks. Is this place yours?"

They nodded.

"Can I stay?"

The twins had another flickering conversation then nodded so vigorously they seemed to bounce in place. Before 5 could say anything else they scampered back to the heavy book they had hidden behind and lifted its cover with childlike enthusiasm. They were engrossed in reading it in seconds.

"Okay," he called over at them uncertainly, grabbing the tube of toothpaste. He'd never been ignored before.

"I'll just be cleaning myself up in that can over there."

The twins didn't seem to hear him. 5 sighed and dragged his supplies to the watering can. He hoped his new housemates didn't always ignore him.

The toothpaste worked beautifully. 5 settled on the nail brush as his tool of choice and lightly scrubbed his damp burlap. After the events of his first day alive the simple task was relaxing. Soothing even. For the moment he was able to block out how he'd gotten bloody in the first place and simply get it _off._ He tried to keep the amount of water he used to a minimum; although it didn't bother him on his cloth skin it felt odd and a little uncomfortable to have it soak through. He started with his face, wanting to see it as it was supposed to be now that he'd just discovered it. He didn't use the toothpaste on his optics. It felt slightly gritty to his hands, which wasn't a problem for the burlap but could scratch the delicate glass.

_There, that's better._

He tackled his legs next. More gentle scrubbing, and gradually more and more clean cloth. He was working on his chest when light footfalls shook the watering can slightly. He glanced towards the mouth of the can and was pleased to see 3 and 4.

"How was your reading?" he asked as he kept scrubbing. They smiled at him.

"Good. I'm glad you enjoyed yourselves."

3's optics lit up with a steady glow, projecting an image onto the wall of the can.

_Now that's useful, _5 thought, looking at the image,_ I wonder if I can do that._

The picture was of two women in a bright kitchen laughing as they did the dishes. The meaning was clear when 3 picked up the toothbrush and 4 dug into the toothpaste.

"I'd appreciate the help. You don't mind, do you?"

In response 4 started rubbing a small amount of toothpaste onto his back while 3 dampened the toothbrush's bristles. The tiny hands on his back were the best thing he had felt since the Scientist picked him up that last time. They took turns with the toothbrush, flashing at each other as they worked and occasionally showing 5 some of the pictures they had memorized. At one interval 3 left the watering can and returned soon after with a thimble. The silent stitchpunk filled it with water and used it to start rinsing away the toothpaste.

"Nice find," 5 said, by now growing accustomed to the twin's silence. 3 flashed a quick response at him and smiled. 5 smiled back. He didn't entirely understand his new companions, but he liked them. He hoped the others would be as friendly.


	3. A Brief Respite

Two weeks later, 5 woke up to a narrow band of bright sunlight in his face. He swung out of his make-shift hammock slung between two of the legs on a kitchen chair and stretched.

_Looks like a nice day out there,_ he thought, _The twins will appreciate the extra light._

The last couple of weeks had passed peacefully for the three stitchpunks in their chosen home. 3 and 4 spent most of their days cataloging the myriad of books in the study and living room. For a small home the book collection was extensive; it appeared that the human who lived here previously had been a collector. Sometimes 5 joined them, but never for long. He simply couldn't read at their furious pace and he felt bad asking them to slow down for him. They showed him all sorts of things as they learned them anyway. He'd been especially fascinated by the pictures 4 had shown him of tall ships and the ocean just the day before.

_That much water in one place must be spectacular,_ he had thought at the time, _How do humans dare to cross something so big?I wonder if the Scientist has ever been sailing._

He hoped one day to have a chance to see a real ship out on the real ocean.

5 entered the study and saw the twins in their usual positions reading. They had been the exact same way when he'd gone to bed. With their bed in this room he doubted the pair had gotten any sleep.

_They'd get even less if I still slept in here,_ he thought, relieved that he had passed the most recent night quietly. On his first night in his new home 5 had built his bed close to 3 and 4's to try and mitigate not having the Scientist there to curl up against. After he'd woken, screaming, with 3 and 4 trying to shake him into awareness he moved himself to the kitchen. Bad enough that he had nightmares; he didn't need to inflict them on his new friends.

"Good morning. Sleep well?"

The twins looked up for a second. 4 hung her head shyly while 3 shook his with a silent giggle. Ah, they hadn't been to bed.

"I thought as much," he replied, smiling back, "For the amount you use your bed I don't think you need it."

They flickered at him amiably, then went back to their reading. 5 walked over to the side of the desk and organized his tools for his latest project.

The primary way 5 passed his time when he wasn't learning from 3 or 4 was by doing projects to assist them. He had started with the windows, scaling the curtains and furniture to reach them and pull a single board from each to let in more sunlight for his companions to read by. It was during these projects that the budding handyman had discovered his favourite tool: string. Initially he'd wanted it to build the bindings for a pair of safety pin climbing shoes he used to scale fabrics. Then a safety line in case he fell while using the curtains to access the windows. Combined with a large kilt pin, secured to the curtain after he was in position but before he started to work, the string had already saved him from a few falls. It's next use had been combined with a washer to toss a line through the handle of a kitchen drawer and haul it open. The drawer had yielded another tool for his current project.

The twins had read almost everything in the house, except for the books 5 had seen on that high shelf in the study. They couldn't reach them. So in a bid to make his friends happy he rounded up all the nails he could find and started building a ladder by pounding them in a line into the wall. A human hammer was too large and heavy for the stitchpunk to wield, but the sturdy metal garlic masher he'd found in that drawer worked well in its stead. It was the right size, relatively the right shape, and once he had threaded string through one of the gaps he could carry it on his back. He'd also tied the handles together to make it sturdier.

5 threaded several large nails into the string bandoleer he'd made before tying his safety line around his waist. The rest of the coiled line, the bandoleer, and his portable hammer found their way onto his shoulders before he started climbing the twenty nails already set. Another ten and he would be on the desk. Once he made it to the desk top he would rig a permanent safety line to its top before continuing, he decided, scaling slowly. He knew he was a bit clumsy; having a fixed line would set his mind at ease.

Having reached the current nail he tied his safety line to it before sitting on it, grabbing it with his knees like a narrow tree branch, facing the wall. He pulled a nail from his bandoleer and held it at arms length above his head, tip pointed into the wall. He shrugged his hammer off his remaining shoulder into his hand and began the slow process of driving the nail in such an awkward position.

* * *

At mid-day 5 clambered onto the desk triumphantly. To his surprise there was a stack of handwritten papers and two notebooks lying in the centre of it he hadn't been able to see from the ground.

"Hey," he called down to the twins, "I found something new for you to read."

3 and 4 looked up at 5 from different areas of the room and, upon seeing him on the desk, dashed to his work site. They scaled the nails in the wall with a speedy ease that made 5 a little envious. At the same time he was glad to know they could use his work. 5 grinned as the twins began eagerly cataloging his find. Hammering all those nails had been worth it.

5 drove a nail deep into the edge of the desk to anchor his new safety line before climbing down to gather more string and nails. He had barely touched the floor when 4 came down behind him.

"Finished already?" 5 asked. 4 shook her head, then took his hand with both of hers and lightly tugged him towards a pile of books in one far corner.

"Where are we going?" he asked. 4 smiled in response and released him when they reached the pile, then skirted around behind it. She pushed a battered paperback across the floor to his feet. The cover was decorated with a strange cylindrical vessel under water. 5 slowly read the title out loud.

"Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea?"

4 nodded and tugged the cover open, gesturing at the words.

"I'd read it with you, but you know I'll never keep up."

4 sighed and projected an image in response. The picture was of a woman handing a young boy a wrapped present.

"It's a gift? Thanks! I won't be able to read it all at once though."

4 gave him a quick pat on the arm and ran back to the desk.

A_ break wouldn't hurt,_ 5 thought as he opened the book and started reading, _I can always work on the ladder later._

He didn't realize yet that the peace in their world wouldn't last.

* * *

It was dusk when the battle started. 5 was perched on the living room curtains, having just finished detaching a loose board from the window before it fell on its own, when several humans ran by to the sound of gunfire. Four machines filled the end of the street, firing on them. He froze, clutching the curtains tight as he watched the scene.

_No, please no, not here!_

Two humans dropped in the street, and a third rolled, bleeding from her shoulder, before finding her feet and racing straight for the stitchpunk's home. 5 was quaking too badly to move as the woman darted through the door and slammed her back flat to the wall just inside the frame. He watched as the woman pulled a glass bottle from her overcoat and lit the cloth jammed in its neck on fire. She raised her flaming parcel over her head, whipped around the door frame to throw it--

Crack crack crack crack crack crack crack! Gunfire slammed into her head and body, throwing her back into the curtains. The impact tore 5's climbing shoes clean out of the fabric and he fell with a yelp. In the same instant the bottle flew out of her hand and shattered at the base of the door.

5's safety line snapped taut, leaving him dangling upside down two feet off the floor. He righted himself, only to realize that the whole doorway and part of the outer wall were in flames.

_No, no, no! This can't be happening!_

"Fire!" he shrieked, fighting with the knot at his waist. It came loose and he dropped messily to the floor. 5 stood up and fell immediately, the safety pins on his feet throwing him off balance. He backpedaled a few inches from the fire on his rear before remembering to rip his climbing shoes off so he could run. He raced to the study.

"4! 3! Where are you?!"

The twins poked their heads out from under the desk.

"The house is on fire! Come on!

The three stitchpunks raced out of the study. The front of the house was in flames. They ended up in the kitchen, but the house's back door had been boarded shut. 5 felt another panic attack coming on, like the one he'd had when the boy died.

_That's it! We're gonna die!_

But just as his vision started to swim his optics fell on his companions. 3 and 4 huddled together, looking wildly for some means of escape.

_No!_ he thought, fighting his racing gears, _I can't let them die! They need me! There's got to be a way out!_

Then he remembered the sunlight that woke him that morning. There was a gap in the boards covering the kitchen window, above the sink. But how to get up there?

"This way!" he shouted, catching 3 by the hand. He'd left the string in place after accessing that kitchen drawer. It still hung through the handle, washer and all. The twins ran with 5 to the base of the counter and 5 grabbed the length of string opposite the washer, tugging it to lift the washer an inch off the floor.

"One of you grab the string and put your foot in the washer! I'll do the rest!"

3 did as 5 instructed and the larger stitchpunk tugged feverishly to hoist 3 up to the counter. 4 was next, then 5 hoisted himself as the entryway to the kitchen began to burn. The twins grabbed him as soon as he was within reach and hauled him onto the desk.

"The washer! Grab it!"

4 snatched the washer before it slid off 5's foot and handed it to him. He wrapped the string around the kitchen faucet and fed it through the washer before running to the window and tossing the empty end out the gap. The twins needed no explanation what it was for. All three stitchpunks slid down it to the ground and ran into the night. They were now homeless.


	4. Pain

They didn't stop running until 5 tripped and landed hard on his chest, stunning him momentarily. 3 and 4 hauled him to his feet, then dragged him under a wrecked car as a machine passed. At their insistence he sat, leaning against the inside of one wheel.

"But it's not safe here. We have to keep going."

He tried to get up, but 3 pressed down on his shoulders and 4 climbed onto his lap.

_They look exhausted._

They had been running for hours, and 5 guessed the effects of staying up the whole night before were catching up with them. Come to think of it he was tired too.

"Okay, you win."

3 released his shoulders, but rather than get up 4 curled into a more comfortable position across 5's lap and reached for her brother. 3 took her hand and snuggled up near her face, against 5's side. Their closeness brought 5 a modicum of peace. He put an arm around 3 and rested his other hand against 4's back. 4 patted his leg softly, then shuttered her optics. A moment later 3 was also asleep. Their hands stayed entwined. All around them the battle raged, but the twins slept. 5 tried to follow their example, but every time he shuttered his optics he saw the boy's dead eyes. The woman, with a bullet hole in her head. Fire. 5 soon gave up on sleep and settled for watching over his companions.

_At least I'm not alone this time._

* * *

The battle became more intense after dawn. The three stitchpunks stayed huddled together in their chosen cover as explosions began to rock the ground. 5 cringed and shuttered his optics as one of the explosions shook the car. They were still shuttered when he felt a tug on his arm. His first thought was that one of the twins had been injured. He unshuttered his optics in panic, but rather than finding his companions wounded they were up, pointing and bouncing in excitement. Through the dust 5 could just make out a small, agile form darting through the battle. Another stitchpunk, about his size but lean and pale. As he watched one of the machines fired on a human sniper in a damaged tower, knocking debris down on the newcomer.

"Look out!" 5 hollered but the stitchpunk was faster, leaping to avoid the falling bricks before he even opened his mouth. The stitchpunk landed in a crouch and was moving again with a dancer-like beauty, all grace and strength. The agile one had seen them, and seconds later dove under the car with a fluid roll to land at the other three stitchpunks' feet.

"Are you hurt?" she asked in a strong voice, but the question held a gentle edge. The twins surged forward immediately to study her with curious wonder, optics clicking. To 5's surprise the newcomer chuckled them.

"Nice to meet you too."

5 found himself unable to speak in such a splendid being's presence until she turned her optics to him and asked, "How about you? Anything broken?"

"Uh, uh, no," he stammered.

_I sound so stupid!_

"Good. It's safer with the others. Follow me."

5 was shaking too badly to move. She turned to exit cover, and 5 noticed the number 7 on her back.

"7, wait!"

She turned back to him, and the fear must have been obvious on his face because her gaze softened slightly as she met his optics.

"Don't be afraid. Trust me."

And he found he did trust her, despite his churning gears. He and the twins followed 7 out into hell. It was worse than any battle 5 had ever witnessed before, machines everywhere, humans dying, bullets flying, things exploding--

_Just focus on 7,_ he thought, optics riveted on her back, _Focus on 7 and run._

She set a slower pace than her arrival, and 5 guessed it was mainly for him because he knew the twins were fast. 7 had them duck behind wreckage at intervals and scouted ahead, until finally at one piece of rubble she moved just out of cover and called to someone else.

"I've found others," she said, and motioned for them to come. The three stitchpunks came out of cover to see a group of other stitchpunks clustered under an army helmet. A large patchwork one, holding the helmet up. A pale one with straps and a bullet casing hat. Behind him a striped one, fidgeting with his pen tip fingers. And at the back the last one, burlap like 5 himself but with a leather vest laced across his chest. This last stitchpunk smiled at the newcomers as they scurried into the helmet's shelter. 5 took the spot next to him, behind the twins.

"You're alright now, boy," said the burlap stitchpunk, putting an arm around 5's shoulders. His voice was gentle and aged, like the Scientist's. 5 drew some strength from his touch, then the arm dropped as the whole party began to run under the helmet.

An explosion buffeted them from behind, jaring the ground. Already lagging at the back edge of the helmet on quaking legs, 5 didn't stand a chance. He fell. The cover of the helmet vanished, and 5 found himself alone as he sat up facing the machines. He shuffled back on his rear, then fell again as he was nearly crushed by a running human. The human threw one of those flaming bottles that destroyed 5's home at the closest machine, striking it with fire. The machine fired several rounds, and the human dropped dead at 5's feet. The machines were still coming!

5 found his feet and ran. Where were the others? A heavy projectile smashed into the ground to his left, then his right. Then almost on top of him. The impact directly behind 5 launched him into the air. He landed hard on his face with a shattering sound he heard between his audio receptors, his whole head seeming to disintegrate into pain. Everything was dark when he tumbled to a stop.

_What...happened?_

His mind was sluggish. Only partly sensate he made a feeble attempt to get up, but fell again. Slightly tremulous hands grasped his arm and pulled it across cloth shoulders. His optics started working again—at least, the right one did. The left fed him nothing but static. His rescuer was the burlap stitchpunk with the gentle voice. The elder stitchpunk hauled 5 to his feet. 5 leaned heavily on the other's thin shoulder, the static and pain making him so dizzy he could barely put one foot in front of the other. His feet shook, but he couldn't tell if it was him quaking or the ground. Then an impact threw them both to the ground, and 5 took leave of his senses.

* * *

Awareness came slowly. 5 groaned, shuttering and unshuttering his undamaged optic. The static overlayed on his vision, but he could see the ground passing beneath him. He was being carried upright, arms slung over the shoulders of the two stitchpunks on either side of him. It was unearthly quiet.

"Are you awake, 5?" 7's voice came from his left. 5 tried to raise his head, triggering an unexpected burst of pain. He shrieked.

"We're right here, 5," the gentle voice came from his right, then a harsh voice came from somewhere near the front.

"Silence that fool or leave him! He'll bring the machines right to us!"

5 trembled, petrified. What if the others listened to the harsh voice?

"I'm not letting you leave him again!" 7 shot back, enraged, then the gentle voice started speaking to him.

"We're with you. 7 and I will look after you. I know it hurts, but you need to control it, just a little longer."

"2's right," 7 said, squeezing his wrist, "Just keep listening to him."

5 deliberately closed his mouth, but couldn't suppress a whimper of pain with every step.

"Just a little longer," 2 murmured, "Then we'll stop and I'll fix you. Until then you need to be as quiet as you can. We won't leave you, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," the harsh voice said. 2's reply was quiet, but no less firm than 7's.

"If he leaves, I leave with him."

5 forced himself to take a wobbly step. 2 and 7 were helping him, so he had to do his best to help them in return. Then another.

"That's it," 2 encouraged him, "Just put one foot in front of the other."

5 heard the Scientist in 2's words. He pictured in his mind, free of the static, the old man as he supported 5 while he learned to walk. Through his pain he gasped, "Thank you. Both of you."

* * *

An eternity of torture later, 2 and 7 laid the wounded 5 on top of an old tin inside the Sanctuary. 5 had lapsed into a semi-conscious daze, and offered no resistance. It felt good to lie down.

"Find me a needle, thread, and something to cut with," he heard 2's voice overhead, "And a stiffer material for a patch- leather preferably." Several sets of feet pounded out the door. 2 started feeling around 5's damaged optic for further injuries, causing 5 to cry out.

"I'm sorry, boy. I had no idea you were conscious."

"I'll try to be quiet," 5 whimpered. 2 patted his shoulder.

"You never mind what 1 said. He didn't mean it."

_He sounded like he meant it,_ 5 thought, but he was in no shape to argue.

"I need to examine the side of your head to make sure nothing else is broken," 2 told him, "It's going to hurt, but try to keep still."

5 clenched his lips together as the elder stitchpunk started to palpitate the side of his head, but was unable to suppress a strangled cry. Soon the pressure was gone.

"All done for now," 2 told him, patting his shoulder again, "Your ear and its connecting bits are intact, and the eye didn't splinter any inside your head, but--"

2 stopped speaking. 5 reached up to his shoulder and grabbed 2's hand.

"But what?" 5 asked, terrified that he already knew the answer. He was right.

"The eye is beyond repair. It has to come out."

5 couldn't respond in words; he just squeezed 2's hand tighter. He heard footfalls, then an unfamiliar tenor voice asked, "Is this good?"

"Yes 6, thank you," 2 replied, accepting a scrap of brown leather. The twins returned next with a needle and spool of thread between them. 7 entered directly behind them with a small pair of sewing scissors.

"Good, we can begin."

2 moved to look 5 directly in his remaining optic.

"I had hoped you would be unconscious for this, but the pain won't stop unless I treat you."

5 couldn't keep the fear out of his voice when he replied, "I trust you."

2 nodded, giving 5's trembling shoulder one last pat before motioning to the others.

"I need you here, 7," 2 said, and 7 came into view on 5's uninjured side. On his injured side he felt two small hands take his and another pair resting on the same arm.

"6, it might be best if you stepped out."

"I can help," came the timid reply. 2 was silent for a second, then replied, "Take his legs. Don't let him kick anyone."

5 felt a weight press down across his legs. His gears spun so quickly he thought they'd fly right out of his chest. He couldn't help but follow 2 with his eye as the elder stitchpunk picked up the scissors.

_Get a hold of yourself! They're trying to help you!_

"You watch me," 7 told him, staring into his good optic as she placed a hand under his jaw, "Try to stay still."

5 could only whimper, too frightened for words. Then 2 began cutting the seam near his damaged optic. Despite 5's best efforts he couldn't stop himself from trying to jump off the table with a yelp. 7 held his head still with one hand and his arm down with the other. The little hands on his other arm tightened.

"It'll be over soon," she told him, not breaking eye-contact, "Just try not to move."

"I'm trying!" 5 wailed, "It hurts!"

"He's moving too much," 2 said. 7's face disappeared from view as she threw her weight down onto 5's chest and arm, taking his jaw in a death grip. 2 was under the cloth now, severing the wiring that hooked 5's optic to the rest of his body. The injured stitchpunk knew that 2 was trying to help him, that they were all trying to help him, but it _hurt_ so _bad_ he would give _anything_ to make 2 _leave him be!_

"Stop!" he found himself pleading, half-screeching the words, "Please stop! Please!"

"Forgive me," 2 murmured without interrupting his work.

"Bear with it a little longer," 7's voice said next to his audio receptor. One of the twins squeezed his hand.

"I can't! Please--"

He shrieked again, beyond words, then merciful oblivion claimed him.


	5. Teacher

The pain was gone. That was the first thing he realized as he came to. His surroundings were quiet, save for the slight scraping of rocks being moved. 5 unshuttered his remaining optic blearily. All he saw was a bland wooden ceiling. He tried to raise a hand to his face, only to have it catch on cloth. He was still lying on the tin, but someone had loosely wrapped him in a scrap of slightly yellowed linen. Given the cold metal under his back the blanket was appreciated, but right now it was in his way. He freed his hands, and started to sit up when an arm circled behind his shoulders and a hand took one of his. Where had they come from? He didn't see anyone.

"Slowly now," the gentle voice came from his newly blind side as the other helped him into a sitting position.

_2, _5 reminded himself,_ His name is 2._

5 turned his head enough to catch the old stitchpunk at the edge of his visual range.

_This will take some getting used to, _he thought, raising a hand to touch the space where his optic had been. His fingers met smooth leather.

"I'm sorry I couldn't repair your eye," 2 said as he watched.

"You saved my life," 5 responded, squeezing the hand that still held his, "You and 7. I could never properly thank you."

For one sickening moment he couldn't remember seeing 3 and 4 since his injury.

"The others 7 found with me," he asked, "The twins. Where are they? Were they hurt?"

2 patted his back.

"They were here, remember? They're fine-- exploring our new home. 7's gone to check on them."

In a flash he remembered the small hands on his arm and nodded. Satisfied that he was steady and fully alert now 2 released 5 and gave him the space to swing his legs over the impromptu operating table.

"Take all the time you need," 2 called over his shoulder as he wandered over to a heap of broken masonry and started shifting pieces to a small gap in the floorboards.

"What are you doing?" 5 asked.

"I want to turn this space into a work shop, since 1 has decided we're staying here. But first I've got to clean up this mess."

"I'll help," 5 said, climbing off the battered tin box and wandering over to join 2 in clearing the rubble. The harsh voice was their leader? Despite his trepidation it still made sense to him in a way that the eldest would lead them, having the most experience of the eight.

"I hope this place has books," he said as they worked, "3 and 4 spent all their time reading them in our last home before it burned down."

"This sanctuary is a very large place. There's bound to be books somewhere."

"Good."

The pair lifted a larger piece of rubble together and, finding that it was too large for the hole, set it in a corner.

"We can probably make a table out of that if we can't get it out of the room," 2 said as they set the piece down.

"I guess so," 5 replied, "The top's flat enough."

"The twins don't speak, do they?"

2's question caught 5 momentarily off-balance.

"Um, not the same way we do. They've got this flashing code thing they do with their eyes, and they can project pictures. They understand us just fine though," he added hastily, worried that 2 would believe 3 and 4 could not be communicated with.

2's voice was wistful when he responded, "I had wondered, when I saw that 3's blueprints didn't include a voice box."

"You saw his blueprints?!"

2's optics seemed to glow.

"I had the pleasure of thoroughly exploring the Scientist's lab before I set out on my own. Between his diagrams, practical models, and watching the first stages of 3's construction I gained a good understanding of our bodies."

"Oh," 5 replied softly, remembering the protective warmth of the Scientist's hand. "So that's how you knew how to fix me."

He still missed the old man. They worked silently for a moment before 5 asked, "Could you teach me? I... I never had that kind of chance."

2's face creased in a smile that could be heard in his voice.

"Of course. Let's take a break."

2 brushed his hands together to rid them of the dust.

"Now we'll need some sort of visual aid-- supplies to make a diagram, or some sort of machinery..."

2 searched around the room and, finding nothing in evidence, lifted his hands to the strings on his chest.

"I suppose we could use my parts."

5 stopped him.

"Let's use mine. They're easier to get at."

2 clapped him on the shoulder.

"Okay. A mirror then. Help me get the lid off that tin."

The two stitchpunks pried the lid free. Although the outside of the tin was tarnished the inside of the lid still shone bright. They propped it against the nearest wall. 5 caught sight of his own reflection and froze, mesmerized by the patch on his face.

_It was close,_ he thought, his gears picking up speed. The room was just beginning to spin when 2 put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's going to be difficult to get used to," he said, "Are you alright?"

_Focus on 2,_ he thought, fighting his mounting anxiety. 2 was a soothing presence, a healing presence. The room stilled.

"Just-just... it's different," he said, running a hand over the patch, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? We don't have to use your innards for our lesson if you don't want to. I'm sure 6 has found drawing supplies by now--"

"It's okay, really," 5 replied. Then he dropped both hands to his buttons. To his surprise 5 had no fear of opening his fabric for 2. The other stitchpunk had been nothing but kind to him. Patient with him. Just like the Scientist. He trusted 2.

5 pulled the fabric of his torso aside and found himself riveted by his reflection again, this time with fascination.

"Wow."

"We are intricate, aren't we?" 2 said, "Look behind your ribs. See how each part works with the others?"

2 pointed to the reflection.

"These gears here in the centre are always turning- as long as you're alive. The box in the middle powers everything in your body."

"How?"

"That's the only thing I haven't figured out yet. It's obvious that this," he said, pointing to a small open cylinder "Was designed for a lead of some kind, but I don't know what's in the box to hold a charge. Near as I can tell it's the seat of our consciousness too, so protect this area above all."

"You didn't see 3's built?"

"The Scientist released me before he started on it. I wish I had seen it. Would've answered a lot of my questions."

2 continued with the lesson.

"Out near your limbs you'll notice a few gears that aren't moving at the moment. These move your limbs. With your permission," he finished, tapping the back of 5's hand, which was still holding his cloth skin open, "I'll hold that for a moment so you can move your arm and see those parts at work."

5 let 2 grasp the edge of his fabric and moved his arm slowly. The until-then still gears in his shoulder clicked into a nearby spinning gear and came to life.

"There, you see? The parts in your hips work in much the same-- what's that?"

2 looked from the mirror to 5's shoulder gear directly. A reddish-black crust clung to some of the grooves. 5 recognized it immediately, remembering in a flash the feeling of the boy's blood coating him.

"Blood" he replied, surprised he could speak at all, "Human blood."

He'd released the fold of his cloth he held open, and 2 took that as a cue to do the same. 5 clutched his burlap shut, trembling.

"Oh dear," 2 said, "Did the human survive?"

"No. He--he saved me."

2 put a gentle arm around 5's shoulders, and something deep in 5's parts seemed to break. Buttons still undone 5 pulled the older stitchpunk into a hug. Despite being unable to shed tears he started to sob.

"Shhh, boy, it's alright," 2 said, rubbing his back.

"Why did he make us, knowing those things were out there?" 5 cried, "Why send us out into a war? Into a dying world?"

"To live."

2 moved himself to arm's length and put a hand under 5's chin to get him to meet his gaze.

"He sent us out to live. You didn't see what the gas did-- everything that breathed is dead. He must have known what was coming and designed us to survive after he and his kind perished."

2 lowered his hand, but the trembling 5 didn't look away.

"You've been through a lot," the older stitchpunk said, "Probably more than I have. But although life has pain it also has its joys. He must have thought those joys were worth it. I do."

5 found a small, shaky smile coming to his lips. He liked 2 more every minute.

"You're a lot like him," he replied, "From the little I saw."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Do you want help cleaning your gears? Contaminants like that could encourage rust."

"Okay. Will you teach me more while we work?" 5 asked eagerly in spite of the quiver in his voice. 2 clapped his new student on the shoulder again.

"Of course! Now let's find some supplies. There's got to be light machine oil somewhere in a place this big."

**A/N: I just realized that this fic is a quinary: "Consisting of or containing five parts or elements." Fitting for a 5-centric fic, I guess. I may write more about 5 in the near future, but I've arrived where I wanted to for this story. Thank you to all you lovely people that reviewed or stuck this on your favourites/ author alerts. Until next time :)**


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